


The Wreck of Our Hearts

by Xedra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Facebook: Hermione's Nook, Minor Original Character(s), Post-Hogwarts, Pre-Hogwarts, Rare Pairings, Self-Harm, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22670434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xedra/pseuds/Xedra
Summary: Luna Lovegood has known from an early age that having a soul mate can be both a blessing and a curse.
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/George Weasley
Comments: 15
Kudos: 24
Collections: Hermione's Nook RarePair Soulmate Fest





	1. Soulmates

**Author's Note:**

> Trope: Soulmates share injuries.
> 
> Trigger Warning for suicidal thoughts and cutting. This only occurs in one chapter and I will give warning so you can skip it, if you need to. Please take care of yourself!
> 
> SO MANY THANKS to my wonderful beta Morgan Britt for her encouragement and all her great suggestions to make this fic even better!
> 
> She also made the gorgeous cover art and I love it!

[](//imgur.com/0lBIsAE)  


Soulmates, or matches, as they were more commonly called, were not unheard of in the Wizarding World, but they were relatively rare and manifested in a host of different ways. 

As youths would become of age the soulmate bond would manifest itself. Some people might suddenly find a mark on their skin, the matching mark only being present on their soulmates flesh; or, one might have only half of a design which would become completed once meeting their match. 

There had been other examples of the magic manifesting itself in the form of their mate's name appearing; which was nice if it was something unique like Granuaile or Copernicus, but rather frustrating when it was plain old Mary or John. 

In some cases, one could feel the other's emotions or even share the other's thoughts, to varying degrees. In rarer cases, matches felt an irresistible urge to be physically near each other and could not bear to more than a few feet apart. 

Recognizing your other half could be overwhelming with how many ways there were to find your match as there are so many variations and a whole spectrum of degrees to those variations. Wizard scholars have been consistently occupied with cataloging and studying them as they manifested.

Luna Lovegood was 8 years old when her mother told her about the existence of soulmates and how very special it was. Not everyone had a match, and matching wasn’t specific to magical folk, though to match with a muggle was extremely rare. 

That's not to say that those who did not have a match were any less worthy or loved their chosen partner any less, but her mother reasoned that souls must be as different from person to person as a mind or a heart. It would make sense that some souls would need to be connected to another to feel complete. 

Then her mother had laughed in that free and lovely way she had and simply shrugged. She didn't know why her soul needed to be connected to her husband's and didn't care to know why, but she was thankful everyday that it was. 

Alas, Having a soulmate was not always wonderful. As the conversation continued her mother's face grew solemn as she began to explain how being so connected to another person could also be a challenge. 

Some did not handle the incorporation of another's thoughts and emotions into their own mind very well, finding it more of a distraction and an intrusion than a connection. The need to always be within speaking distance of your mate so in order to prevent debilitating emotional or physical stress could make life very difficult, as well. 

Then there is the tragic circumstance of having a mate somewhere in the world and not being able to find them. To have a constant longing in your heart for your other half, to hear the distant echo of another mind, one half of a song playing over and over, a name with no presence branded on your skin... to search for years without success was agonizing. 

Some managed to live with the loneliness, the ever-present ache, but they were never truly happy. All they could do was continue to search for their mate, no matter how long, no matter how far. It was either that or go mad.

The ultimate pain however, was to find one's soulmate and then be parted from them by death. To be bonded to another and to have that bond torn asunder, to reach out for the other half of yourself and find nothing but emptiness, is often more than one can bear to live with and many choose not to.

Yes, finding your soulmate and becoming one, it was a blessing and a curse. All manifestations had their advantages and challenges - some more than others - but Pandora Lovegood smiled warmly as she described being able to feel the echo of her husband's emotions alongside her own heart, how that echo was the most beautiful music playing in the back of her mind every day. For Pandora to know him so completely and to be known so completely in return, to be so deeply connected to another human being, to feel such an abiding love that comes with a soul having matched with yours, her happiness was indescribable and Luna believed her. 

Luna wished with all her heart to be just as blessed when she grew up.

It was only a year later, after her mother died that she began to doubt her desires. Her mother's passing, while a tragic accident and mercifully quick, had utterly devastated her father. Xenophiliussank into a deep depression that emotionally diminished him to an almost child-like state. When the Mind Healers proposed to have Luna live with her father's Great Aunt Calliope while they worked to stabilize his mental state, Xenophilius fell into weeping hysterics at the thought of being parted from his beloved daughter, as well. 

So Great Aunt Calliope came to them instead, floating atop a large leather trunk, a tiny old witch with eyes that twinkled from a kind face lined in over 100 years worth of wrinkles and frizzy purple hair that seemed to have a life of its own as it floated and crackled around her. 

She wore an exquisite Indian silk sari in a vivid shade of turquoise, the long bony toes of her bare feet peeking out from beneath the hem.

Instead of a wand, Calliope wielded a staff of twisted oak, easily twice as tall as she was, topped with a shimmering green crystal. When she arrived at their rook-shaped house, she tapped the trunk with the end of her staff to halt its movement and hopped down with as much grace and agility as someone her great grand-niece's age.

She marched up the walk to where Xenophilius and Luna waited to greet her, set her staff aside to float in the air next to her and reached for her great-nephew's hands.

"Xeno, my boy," she sighed, her brows drawn in sympathy. "My dear, dear boy. I can see it. Too much purple, and the orange..." she tsked and patted his cheeks with her wrinkled hands, "...the orange is almost faded away, isn't it?"

Xenophilius squeezed his eyes shut and drew in hard, shuddering breaths. "Auntie Cal... I... I can't..."

Calliope shushed him and pulled him down until his forehead touched hers. "No, of course not, my boy. Not yet. But you will, you will. Your old Auntie will help you change your colors, you'll see!"

The old witch turned to Luna and peered at her for a long moment, her eyes tracing her up and down and at the air around her, then nodded. "Ah, child your colors are coming along nicely. Steady blue, only a bit of purple. Plenty of orange flowing around, and bursts of yellow around the ears, that's a good sign. Come, child, give Auntie Cal a squidge."

Luna smiled softly as Calliope wrapped her thin but surprisingly strong arms around her and squeezed, then drew back and pulled her forehead down to touch hers, as she had with her father. "There's such strength in you, child. And such a heart. What a blessing."

With that, she took up her staff and waved for her trunk to follow as she shuffled into the house to settle in for a long visit.


	2. Memory

While Xenophilius was firmly directed to his room by the old witch to have a much needed rest, Luna led Calliope up to her room at the top of the house where her father had conjured a second bed for their guest. 

Calliope tutted and snapped her fingers, vanishing it and waving her trunk to stand up on the short side in its place. Another snap of her fingers and the trunk opened to reveal two doors. 

The right door opened into a spacious wardrobe with shelves full of crystals and potion vials; bundles of flowers were scattered around alongside ceramic figurines of porcupines. There was also a tiny gold cauldron with three different athames placed inside and odd little bits and bobs that glittered and gleamed. 

A vanity table covered in lotion pots and exquisitely shaped perfume bottles was nestled into the corner, its round mirror warmly lit by rose-shaped frosted bulbs. Dozens of gorgeous silk saris and embroidered scarves hung from a long rod, the patterns bold to the eye and textures inviting to the touch. 

The left door opened into another living space altogether. There was a sitting room with a settee in red velvet and a small table set for tea, the blue china teapot already steaming and plates piled high with tiny sandwiches and biscuits. The walls were covered in a faded print of thin, bare trees and tiny red cardinals that swooped magically from branch to branch. 

Luna saw a doorway off to the side, where a purple beaded curtain hung instead of a door, that Calliope explained lead to a bedroom and its own attached toilet, so she was ‘very well set up, thank you, and everyone will be very comfortable’.

Luna looked around her in delighted curiosity and was happy to sit on the velvet settee and eat several of the dainty sandwiches and biscuits as Calliope told her all about the wonders of wizard space. 

The old witch paused to pour them both a cup of tea, then tucked her feet up under her and considered the young witch next to her. "Your father will need quite a lot of help to recover, you understand that, my dear?"

Luna nodded, "Yes. He misses Mummy very much and his soul is lonely without hers."

Calliope's eyes went soft and distant, as if lost in memory. "Lonely. Yes, it is very lonely. All your colors go dark and the world becomes a very frightening place..." she drifted off, her hands dropped to her lap, almost spilling her tea. 

Luna looked down into her own cup for a long moment before asking in a hushed voice, "Will Daddy go mad, do you think? Will he die?"

Calliope started, then shifted to face the girl fully, taking Luna's face into her hands. 

"No, child, he will not. There is much to be done and what the Healers cannot manage, I will do myself. I daresay there is plenty I can do that many a Healer has never even dreamed of. I've seen his colors, my dear, and there is still enough orange to work with. He will mend. Yes, he will mend." She patted Luna's cheeks and pinched her tiny chin.

With that, she hopped up from the settee and darted through the beaded curtain in the bedroom, making the strands of beads sway and clack together furiously. 

While Luna waited for her to return, she set her tea down and rose from the settee. She approached a section of wall that wasn't as faded as the rest to look more closely at a perched cardinal, preening itself on a painted branch. She brushed a finger over the bird's wing and smiled when it ruffled in response and hopped around, it's tiny beak chirping mutely at her. 

Sudden movement from the corner of her eye turned her head and she gasped in delight as cardinals fluttered and swooped from all over the room toward the tree in front of her, crowding its branches, nudging each other to be the next one to have a tickle.

The beaded curtain clacked wildly again, announcing Calliope's return and Luna turned to see her holding the beads back for a large gilded frame to float ahead of her. Luna returned to the settee as Calliope moved the table out of the way with a wave and directed the frame around to face front.

It was a magical portrait of a robustly built middle-aged wizard with blazing grey eyes. In fact, most of him was gray, from his thick hair, luxurious mustache and close-cropped beard to the silky pewter of his robes, richly embroidered along the hems with twisting designs in shiny black thread. 

The setting of the painting was an artist's studio, filled with paints and brushes and canvases of various sizes. Painted canvases covered the walls from top to bottom and empty canvases were stacked next to a wooden easel in the foreground. A large picture window in the background looked over a lush Italian countryside, where you could just see the edge of a vineyard heavy with grapes swaying in the summer breeze.

The artist himself was currently leaning against the edge of his painting, smiling devilishly and blowing kisses at Calliope. 

Calliope cackled at his behavior and poked at his painted chest, which made the man laugh, a booming merry sound that made the frame shake.

"Luna, my dear, this ridiculous man is my first husband, Fabrizio Montanari. The most celebrated creator of wizard portraits in his time."

Fabrizio bowed with a flourish and greeted the girl in flowery, heavily accented speech, complimenting her _eyes blue like the morning sky_ and _hair so long and lovely like the sun herself is weeping over the shoulders_ \- but once he began rhapsodizing _the face, the face so serene I would paint as the Goddess of the Moon sleeping in her blanket of stars!_ Luna began giggling and Calliope knocked the frame with her staff.

"Enough of that, you flattering fool! Now clear out your studio and prepare your finest canvas, for you will be painting this child's mother."

Calliope turned to Luna, "I assume your mother did not have her portrait painted, since your father would not be having such a difficult time if he was able to interact with his match in some way.'

Luna shook her head, "We don't have a portrait, and Daddy put all of her pictures away. He says they are empty and cold and he can't bear to see them."

Fabrizio shouted indignantly from the portrait, "Photographs, bah! Rubbish!" 

"Indeed, Fabo, darling." Calliope smiled indulgently at the artist as he shoved dozens of canvases out of sight, rearranged tables, draped a white curtain across the wall behind his easel, then bent down to pick up a wooden case which he opened to reveal brushes and paints that glowed with an iridescent light. 

Calliope tilted her staff, moved her fingers over the green crystal at the top and caught it as it plopped out of the wood and into her palm.

She took Luna's chin in her other hand. "Now, my dear, to create a wizard's portrait would normally require the wizard, or in this case the witch, to not only sit for the artist, but to also sit with the finished piece and interact with it in order for the magic in the paints to absorb their personality, the workings of their mind, their memories, and ultimately a bit of their life force to awaken it as they leave this world.

This cannot be done for your mother now, but I think we can create something together that is close enough. Close enough to give your father a boost back into himself. What do you say, my dear?"

"What can I do?" Luna asked, her mind buzzing like a beehive with so many questions,

"Think of her. Close your eyes and bring forth the clearest memory of your mother that you can."

Luna took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Calliope touched the crystal to the girl's forehead and closed her eyes, as well. "Yes, I see her, but go deeper, child. See not only her face, bring forth the memory. Live it again!" The old witch whispered a chant and the crystal began to glow.

The memory Luna chose was very familiar, one she had no difficulty bringing to life in her mind for she would often relive the last time she saw her mother alive. 

Her mother was down in her basement laboratory, experimenting with her spells. There were books everywhere, ancient runes and sigils from dozens of cultures around the world carved into the walls. 

The raised dais where she actively worked on her spells was curtained off and her mother was curled up in a squashy purple chair, her wand tucked behind her ear and her nose deep in a book of advanced Pyromancy spells. Dozens of lit candles floated up above, a reminder of her Hogwarts days, her mother had once told her.

Luna reached up and touched the wind chime set just inside the door, its tinkling sounds loud enough to gain attention but soft enough not to startle. 

The sound caused Pandora Lovegood to glance up from her book and her eyes lit up, her smile wide and happy at the sight of her daughter. She set aside the book and stretched her arms forward, beckoning with wiggling fingers. Luna darted forward and climbed into her mother's lap. A warm cuddle, lilac scent, and her mother's voice all wrapped around her and she floated with cozy contentment in the memory until she felt an odd pull on her mind. The memory faded and Luna blinked open her eyes.

A wispy, glowing tendril coiled around the crystal, which Calliope promptly touched to the painting. the wisp spread over the canvas and slowly seeped in. Luna watched, amazed, as a projection of her memory formed in the space behind Fabrizio's easel: her mother in her purple chair reading under the floating candles, a younger version of herself climbing into her lap for a cuddle, then the memory would fade and repeat.

Fabrizio exclaimed in an exultant flow of Italian that Luna did not understand, but judging by his rapturous expression and finger kisses, he was pleased with his new model. He immediately took up a blank sketchpad and a stick of charcoal and moved around within the memory, filling page after page with sketches, completely absorbed in his task.

"It's a start. Fabrizio will work his magic and I will work mine." Calliope took Luna's hand in hers and patted it as they watched the artist at work.

So it was, several weeks later, that they were presented with a completed portrait of Pandora Lovegood, standing in her laboratory, her hands folded in front of her waist and smiling gently. The picture-within-a-picture was astonishing in its detail and clarity of animation. Fabrizio wiped his brow and put away his paintbrush. He put his hands over his heart and bowed deeply to Luna, thanking her for the honor and declaring it his finest work. Luna could only nod in return, her gaze riveted by the image of her mother.

Calliope brushed her fingers over his painted face and murmured to him softly in Italian. Fabrizio's chest puffed and his eyes sparkled; he blew her a kiss and swaggered out of view. The old witch pointed to her staff, now topped with a spike-shaped blue crystal, at the miniature canvas and chanted. 

The crystal glowed as she moved it closer to the painting and when the tip touched the canvas the blue light spread over it completely, then sharply focused in on the easel. Calliope pulled the staff back and the blue light pulled back with it into a long, glowing thread that dangled from the end of the crystal. When the thread dropped from the painting, the easel was empty.

Calliope plucked the glowing thread from the crystal and it settled into a coil in her palm. She closed her hand around it, then made a sharp throw-away gesture and a notebook paper-sized painting of Pandora Lovegood appeared with a POP! She handed it to Luna and the girl smiled at the image of her mother wiggling her fingers hello at her. 

The moment Xenophilius saw the painting he began to weep, but Luna was relieved to see they were tears of joy. 

There was something there, captured in his mate's image, that his soul recognized. 

Calliope gave him time to compose himself before explaining that it was Luna's memory that gave the image life and his own memories of Pandora would help to further enrich the painted woman's personality. Xenophilius embraced his daughter tightly, kissed her forehead and cheeks and blessed her over and over until Calliope gently pulled him away before he overwhelmed the child, and suggested they repair his room and meditate for a bit to find good strong memory of his wife.

Over the next year, with the help of the painting, Calliope's guided meditations to "fix his colors" and intense work with Mind Healers, Luna was pleased to see her father pulling away from the shadows of despair, to a point where he could function as a citizen and a father again. 

He returned to his work at The Quibbler for a few hours every day, before rushing back home, back to the painting. He spoke to her several times a day, and though she could not talk back to him as a normal wizard's painting would, she would listen to him and her expressions were enough to communicate her responses. Most of the time, however, he was content to watch her as she moved through her painted laboratory, reading books and waving her wand. 

Her father made breakfast for her every morning and tucked her into bed every night, kissing her forehead and cheeks; he would tell her goodnight, but she knew he was blessing her once again. 

****7 Years Later ****

Luna was sleeping soundly when a sharp pain on the side of her head pulled her from her dreams. She hissed, pressing her hand against the throbbing ache, then frowned in confusion. She quickly sat up in bed and swept the wavy blonde hair from the left side of her head. 

Her eyebrows climbed higher and higher as her fingers did not find a delicate shell of cartilage and a fleshy lobe, but rather smooth skin and a quick dip into the hole of her middle ear. 

She lifted her other hand to find her right ear intact and spent long minutes tracing its contours, flexing the flap of her ear back and forth, pinching and waggling the lobe. Back and forth she compared the now very different sides of her head, her blue eyes distant but thoughtful.

Eventually, she rose from her bed and padded over to her bookshelf, pulling down several books. She stacked them next to a squashy purple chair nearby and lit the lotus shaped lamp that hung over it. 

Tucking her feet up under her nightgown, she settled into the chair and considered her choices: two books on hexes, one of poisons, a weight tome on strange medical conditions, and a very old guidebook on magical beasts. 

Selecting the one that was by far her favorite, she opened Newt Scamander's book and began to read...

When several days of research provided no answers, Luna was left with only one possibility. Over a breakfast of waffles, eggs, and peach nectar, she asked her father how one would go about finding out if a witch or wizard had recently lost an ear. 

Xenophilius paused with his forkful of egg at his mouth, the runny yolk dripping down onto his plate. He blinked at his daughter for a moment, intrigued by her question then smiled brightly and offered to post a request in the Quibbler for her that very day, if she liked. 

Luna smiled softly at him and nodded, then finished her glass of nectar. 

She was refilling both of their glasses when he suddenly exclaimed and he pulled a piece of parchment from the pocket of his dressing gown; it was a letter from Arthur Weasley that had been delivered the previous week. 

As he read to her the details of the attack that occurred as they were moving Harry Potter to a safe location and the resulting injuries and casualties, as well as Arthur's entreaty to take extra care in ensuring Luna's safety, Luna reached under her hair and ran a finger around and around the rim of the small left ear hole.

How very interesting, Luna thought to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I 'm pausing the story here, but have no fear - I will definitely be finishing this story!  
> This was all I could get done in time for the fest, LOL.


End file.
